Beautiful Bird
by wrestlefan4
Summary: An Eileen Prince Snape  story.  Title comes from meaning of the name "Eileen"  Follow her story through Hogwarts, and beyond.
1. Chapter 1

Beautiful Bird

(An Eileen Prince story.)

Her mother had awoken her early, with a cry more harsh than a crowing rooster. Eileen had opened her eyes to pale rays of barely-morning light falling in through the round window set high in the sloping wall. She lay in her bed a moment longer, watching the lazy glitter of dust floating in those sunbeams. Very soon she would be free of this attic room and out of the Glass House where nothing must be touched, and her mother lurked around corners to squawk at her, or sat prim, grim, and straight in her chair reading, the pits of her eyes glancing up over the pages if only to look at her daughter with ice.

Her father next to her mother, so very similar but something a bit more alive in him, than in her. He was a man whose smile was almost not there—one had to be very observant of the minute detail of his lips—to distinguish the subtle rise of corners, but at least he was capable of that. Eileen thought he may be prone to a bit more happiness, if her mother did not smash it with her shrill voice and between bone-claw fingers. Her father was often too quiet to protest, his normal tone of voice a mere whisper, just as subtle as his ghost-smiles. Those smiles seemed only to touch his eyes—as dark as her mothers, but not void—when he regarded his daughter. He would not say it, but some things he did showed her that he did care for her, the cold and only child. He stood up to his wife only when it came to his daughter, or his birds.

Eileen propped herself up on her slender forearms, pointy elbows digging into the mattress. Today was the day she would leave on a scarlet train to meet her future. She was eager to learn, less eager to have to spend her living arrangements and most of the year with other children her own age. Like her father she was a quiet girl, and like her mother she tended to be sour. She was fully capable of cruelty should it suit her, and often enough it did. She had never joined in many games with other children, she found most of them frivolous and a waste of her time. She had only tried Gobstones because her father had bought a beautiful set for her ninth birthday. He had suggested she should play with other children, rather than hex them. Her mother thought the glass stones were stupid, and that the other children deserved to be hexed for playing on the ground like pigs, and soiling their clothes, and laughing about nothing and everything, and being generally petulant little rats, simply because they were children.

Though Eileen was more inclined to agree with her mother, she would not admit it, nor give her mother the satisfaction of being right. She learned Gobstones and played the game as often as she could with the other children, remaining a silent competitor, and victorious in many ways. She was good at the game, and her mothers face when she came home for dinner with her clothes dirty continued to fuel her love for the game. She was sure her father was amused as well. He would sometimes stand at the window and watch as a tournament took place on the sidewalk, and later he would compliment her, and they would both ghost-smile, conspiring annoyances to the glowering mother.

Eileen let her bare feet hit the cool wood flooring. She wiggled her toes against the boards, and then creaked across the room to gather the velvet pouch which held her Gobstones. Her mother had threatened to destroy them many times, causing riots between spouses to break out in the kitchen and wands to arch and spray sparks and colors as the evening light would die down to darkness. Did all husband and wives duel each other in the kitchen? She was not sure, but it was life in the Glass House.

Her mother's eek rang up the stairs to her once more, and Eileen gave a rude fingered salute to the closed door, glaring fit to put a hole through it. She opened the top drawer of her dresser, and pulled out a parcel of folded clothing, wrapped in tissue paper. These were her uniform pieces that her mother had chosen for her in Diagon Alley, embarrassing her daughter by riffling through racks and racks of jumpers, going on and on about how hard it was to buy clothes for the girl because she was so thin. She had complained about how she would have to get them magically altered, else they would look like sacks hanging from twigs, and how that would cost so much more. Eileen had inherited her twiggy build from both parents, her father being broader in the shoulders. He wore heavy black robes to make himself look more substantial, but his gaunt face and long, slender fingers, gave him away. Her mother was just a mean bitch, who enjoyed poking her daughter with sticks, as she might an animal to rile it.

Eileen slipped out of her night gown, cast a cleaning charm over herself, and then dressed in her uniform. For now the tie she knotted at her neck was black, with a Hogwarts emblem. Later tonight it would be switched out with one which bore the colors of the House she would be sorted into—most likely Slytherin, as was the tradition of her family.

She ran her hand over the pleats of her gray uniform jumper to straighten it. She frowned. The pleats hit just above her knees, and her legs looked like toothpicks with ugly knobs in the middle for knees. She pulled on her stockings, adjusting the black line up the back of her long legs. She hated wearing these too, but her mother insisted it wasn't proper to wear a skirt or dress without them.

"Eileen!" It was dearest mother calling up the stairs again. Eileen's thick brows furrowed together as she grabbed her scuffed saddle oxfords. She slipped them onto her feet and tied them quickly, twined the drawstring for her Gobstone pouch around her wrist, and moved over towards the packed trunk which sat in the corner, near her wardrobe. The envelope containing her acceptance letter and list of school supplies lay on top. She ran her fingers over it once more, tracing the long, thin digit along the words.

Ms. E. Prince  
>The Attic in the Glass House<br>1660 Mill Drive-

"Eileen!" Her name rang out again, and she jerked her head up with an expression of annoyance pulling her thick brows together.

Eileen did not give her mother a response, she hardly felt like shouting back to her. Let the woman think she was still lying in bed, with a pillow smashed over her head. She put the letter into her trunk, the address at the "glass house" disappearing beneath some folded clothing.

"You'll be late!"

Eileen grabbed her trunk and stopped near the door, looking up at the slender black cat who sat atop the wardrobe. The cat peered down from a long, thin face, much like that of its owner. It's glowing yellow eyes narrowed to slits, and it gave a twitch of its large and angular ears.

"Come along, Hemlock." The cat gave an irritated meow, and hopped off the wardrobe and curled around Eileen's thin shoulders as if it were a shawl.

She banged her trunk down the narrow stairway, extra loud and with a smug expression on her face, just for her mother. The woman stood crossly at the bottom of the stairs, looking much like her only child.

"We're going to be late." Isis Prince snapped, her voice a hiss of impatience. "You won't wear your hair like that." She added, scowling from under heavy black brows at her daughters lank raven hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. Her mother waved her hand, and Eileen's hair coiled into a tight knot at the back of her neck—Hemlock gave a great screechy yowl as his tail was caught up into the hairdo.

"Mother!" Eileen shrieked, battling with the cat that was clawing wildly at her shoulders.

"Next time, you won't dawdle." Her mother said coldly, offering no help to the writhing cat or daughter.

"Hemlock!" The cat's tail was pulled free with much flying of fur, and he sprang off of Eileen's shoulders and bolted across the kitchen. Eileen chased after the cat, dropping her trunk. Hemlock bolted over the table top, across the counter, and out the open window where a pair of drab gray curtains fluttered on the dying breeze of summer. "No!" Eileen climbed onto the counter and poked her head out the window, calling for the cat but seeing it nowhere.

"Eileen—get down from there, you will tear your stockings!" Her mother dragged her down, and left a sharp slap across her face for her behavior. "You knocked over my peyote." Isis huffed, waving her hand at the mess of broken pottery, spilled soil, and cactus that had toppled out of the window sill in Eileen's ridiculous fit.

"I hate bloody stockings." Eileen spat, her face screwed up into a hateful glare as she stomped back to the bottom of the stairs and grabbed her trunk, her mothers hand print stinging and red against her white cheek. "And your stupid sodding cactus!"

"What's all this, then?" Her father asked in his quiet, silky voice. He appeared in the doorway tall, thin, angular, black eyes peering down his long, curved nose. He bore an uncanny resemblance not only to his daughter, but to his wife as well.

"Your daughter is mad!" Her mother raged on as she closed the kitchen window. "She has absolutely no idea how to behave properly, and here she is going off to school. They'll throw you out if you pitch such fits-"

"Mam tied Hemlock in my hair and frightened him off, out the window!" Eileen defended. Osiris pinched the bridge of his nose. Isis scowled, and Eileen smirked. Mother hated 'Mam'.

Isis stamped across the room, the small heels of her pointed boots tapping madly against the wood. She raised her wand at her daughter, pointing it to the thin-lipped, smug-twisted mouth.

"Scourgify!"

Eileen doubled over, coughing and choking, the sour tang of soap over her tongue and bubbles roiling out of her mouth like contents of a pot boiling over. Her father calmly slid his wand out from the holster her wore on his forearm, concealed beneath the draping sleeve of his robe. He uttered the counter curse as his wife began to rage on about the girl needing her just punishment for being such an intolerable little bitch.

"I will hear no more." Her father said, his voice deadly calm and quiet. He slid his wand back up his sleeve, seemingly unaffected by her mothers screech-ranting and flapping of her arms like some skeletal bird. Eileen spat out the last traces of bubbles, and to further irritate her mother, she wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her brand new clothing. She looked straight at her mother when she did so.

"Do you SEE!" Her mother jabbed a scrawny finger at her offensive daughter. "The nerve she has!"

"Eileen, come." Her father swept gracefully out of the kitchen, ignoring her mother's continued fit. Eileen followed him into the living room; a room that like the rest of the house seemed bland and sterile.

"I understand your flighty feline has taken leave of this madness, via the window." Her father moved towards a silver cage that sat near a window, next to the high-backed leather chair he often occupied. "Eileen, you will take Muninn." Osiris said, his voice still barely audible but firm. His words were always selected carefully, his lips seemed to caress each one, a silky speech that contradicted the harsh jutting planes of his somber face. He lost his words only when he was pushed to a complete rage.

Eileen bit her lip. She did not want to take one of the family ravens, though she saw her Father's gesture as a way to make peace, and an offering in kind. He cared meticulously for the birds, perhaps loved them, as sometimes she had come in to find him murmuring lowly to them, now and then even singing in that silk-whisper, as he stroked their feathers.

As I was walking all alone,  
>I heard two ravens making a moan;<br>One said to the other,  
>"Where shall we go and dine today?"<br>"In behind that old turf wall,  
>I sense there lies a newly slain knight;<br>And nobody knows that he lies there,  
>But his hawk, his hound and his lady fair."<br>"His hound is to the hunting gone,  
>His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl home,<br>His lady has taken another mate,  
>So we may make our dinner sweet."<br>"You will sit on his white neck-bone,  
>And I'll peck out his pretty blue eyes;<br>With one lock of his golden hair  
>We'll thatch our nest when it grows bare."<br>"Many a one for him is moaning,  
>But nobody will know where he is gone;<br>Over his white bones, when they are bare,  
>The wind will blow for evermore."<p>

Eileen would rather have her cat back. It wasn't fair that she couldn't take it, he had been with her since she were a tiny girl. Her mother's cat—a gray oriental from the same litter as Hemlock—was curled up beneath the woman's chair. The familiar knew better than to walk on the furniture, lest the cat receive a scolding to match the ones the daughter so often provoked. Muninn gave a harsh caw, fluttered his wings, and bobbed his head at her. Muninn's brother Huginn, a striking albino with piercing red eyes, flapped his wings from his perch.

"You are aware Eileen, why I call these birds such. It is said that Huginn and Muninn were twin ravens "Thought" and "Memory". They belonged to the Norse deity, Odin, who would send his birds out daily over Midgard. They were his ears and his eyes. The raven is a supreme messenger. He is a cunning and intelligent entity, he is sacred and highly magical. His banners flew as honor to Odin and tokens of luck upon Viking vessels, sewn by daughters of great warriors and kings. He will serve you well, Eileen."  
>A snort issued from the doorway.<p>

"They're birds of ill omen, and death. They dine upon corpses and tap at window panes, waiting to take the souls within. They're horrible creatures. They're macabre. They're dirty." Isis harped, as she stood in the doorway. Her thin arms were crossed over her flat chest, and she still looked cross. Perhaps she was perpetually so. "Take the ugly white one too, I would be glad to get them out of my house."

"Woman." Osiris hissed, and cast her a dark look. He stroked Muninn's shimmering black fathers. Woman was a sign that Osiris meant business. The next step up was a snap in his temper that would see him sending a hex across the room, and no doubt a duel between spouses would irrupt. Today however, there was no time for that. Eileen could see the self-control practiced in her fathers' eyes.

"Take care of my "Memory", Eileen." He said to Eileen, and placed the ebony raven on her shoulder. He knelt, and whispered to the bird. "And you, Memory, take care of my heart." He nodded towards Eileen, and the bird seemed to nod its head in response. Osiris looked up at his daughter, their eyes catching in a rare moment that transmitted his quiet love to her.

"We'll be late to the platform!" Isis cried, breaking the bond and nudging Eileen with jabbing fingers towards the door.

–

"Keep to your studies, and behave." Osiris instructed, standing on the platform with Eileen. His expression was as stern as her mothers, but his eyes revealed his humanity, as her mothers she imagined—did not. Her mother snorted at her fathers instruction to 'behave' as if this were an impossible thing to ask of the girl.

"I have little hope for her, until she proves otherwise." Isis snipped, her words clipped and hurtful. Her mother had little hope for her, and spoke of her as if she had already boarded the train and been whisked out of their lives for the biggest part of the year. Eileen held her mothers gaze just as darkly.

"I've nothing to prove to you." She stormed towards the scarlet train, Muninn giving a squawk-cough from upon her shoulder as she stepped into the corridor.

The train was alive with chatter, and Eileen made her way slowly down the aisle, glancing into compartments for a place to sit. The first compartment she looked into took her by surprise. An enormous boy with a head of wild brown hair took up the majority of the compartment. His eyes were streaming tears down his red cheeks, and he was waving a huge hand at a small man who stood on the platform, waving back at him. The giant of a boy pulled a handkerchief out from a pocket that seemed the size of a tablecloth, and gave his nose a great trumpeting blow.

Eileen moved on past a few more full compartments, and then peeked into one where a girl with pigtails and round glasses sat all by herself. The girl was slumped and moping, her lower lip pushed out in a pout. Her eyes were full of tears.

"Ohhh..." She whined. "No one wants to sit with me! I just knew this trip would be miserable! Will you sit with me?" She leaned towards Eileen hopefully, grabbing at her wrist. "I tried to sit with those other girls, but they're sooo-ooo mean." She boo-hooed. "They pulled my hair!" She continued to bemoan, grating on Eileen's nerves and furthering her ill temper.

"If you weren't such a moaning, sniveling, little bitch, then perhaps someone would sit with you." Muninn twitched his head, and bobbed on Eileen's shoulder. Eileen turned on her heel, and continued on down the corridor, rolling her eyes when the girls sobs rang out even louder. An older girl pushed past her with a younger boy—probably a first year—and took the boy into the nearest compartment where she gushed over him. Eileen recognized them both as Blacks.

"Lupin, Malfoy, Potter, this is my cousin, Orion." She said. A boy with mousy hair smiled warmly at Orion, while a small blond wizard peered severely at the first year from over the top of his half-moon spectacles. The third boy, tall and lanky with unruly black hair that poked out from beneath a newsboy hat, offered his hand to Orion in greeting. His brown eyes smiled behind his spectacles, but Orion glanced at his Gryffindor tie, and left the offered hand in midair. That compartment was also too full. Wasn't there anywhere a girl could sit? Eileen startled when a small girl with a poof of wild curly hair toppled out into the aisle, and almost onto Eileen.

The girl picked herself up, looking upset as voices shouted at her out from the compartment from which she had been so rudely expelled.

"Crazy, that one is!" A voice said.

"They're letting all kinds in, aren't they?" Another said.

"She belongs at Mungos." Spoke another, and that was followed by laughter.

The girl turned to Eileen, nearly running into her, and looked up with large eyes that seemed to swim behind the thick spectacles she wore.

"Oh!" The girl gasped, and when she spoke her voice was breathy. "I'm so sorry. I just-" The girl gasped again, and leaned in to peer closer at Eileen, who bent back from her as far as she could without toppling backwards over her trunk. The girls eyes rolled around and went strange, like glassy baubles. "He holds the hand of evil and light, one in the left, and one in the right. Sinner and saint one in the same, between two worlds-"

"What are you on about?" Eileen pushed the girl out of her way.

"No, wait!" The girl trailed after her, big eyes wide behind their spectacles, a white shawl clinging to her shoulders. "He will be Protector, called Fiend! I speak truth—my great-great grandmother was-"

Eileen rushed towards the back of the train car and away from the spouting little fool. She did not care anymore where she sat, only that she could close the door to a compartment and be walled off from the madness outside. She ducked into the nearest chamber, and slammed the door closed. With a sigh she sank down onto the seat, and looked at the girl next to her, who wore bright pink ribbons at the ends of two perfect brown braids. Her face was round, her mouth thin and a bit too wide, her eyes large and her nose small, the unfortunate combination which gave her a look that slightly resembled a toad. Across from the small girl, an attractive, older boy sat. The boy seemed to be appraising Eileen, and she had the feeling she had interrupted something.

"They're mad out there." Eileen commented. Muninn nodded his feathery head in agreement. "Er...excuse me if I've interrupted."

"We were just talking." The boy said.

"Yes, he has some very interesting ideas." The round-faced girl said in a sweet voice, smiling pleasantly. "I'm Dolores Umbridge, I'm a first-year too. This is Tom."

Tom straightened his green and silver striped tie.

"Eileen Prince." She answered, as the train began to move forward and leave the station.

"Are you a pureblood?" Tom asked, curling his lip slightly.

"Yes, the Prince family is pureblood...perhaps not one of the more well-known lines, but we are."

"Very good." Tom said, his mouth now curving into a small smile of approval."That makes you a cut above the others, you know."

"So am I!" Dolores added quickly. "Haven't you heard of the Selwyns?"

"I'm sure both of you will be sorted into Slytherin." Tom went on. "It's the best House, the only house which remains true and loyal to the highest order of wizard, and the purest form of magic. It disgusts me how our unique qualities have been diluted and polluted by outsiders. Muggles, half-creatures, such as that unnatural freak-first year...the giant half-breed, have you seen him yet? He is quite hard to miss."

Eileen nodded, though the half-giant had hardly seemed beastly: he had been sobbing.

"They should all be done away with. They should be destroyed, and those who mingle with or approve of them, should be done away with too. If we allow them to carry on, they will destroy our bloodline, our magic, we will be no better than those dirty Muggles. It is up to witches and wizards such as you and I—the few who remain pure or rooted in pureblood ideals—to come to power and rebuke those who oppose us, who would bring us to ruin, who would have us living as powerless swine! Don't you agree, Ms. Prince?"

Eileen was unsure how to react. This handsome, well-spoken young man, had in his way made sense. However, there was something about him that unsettled her. She shifted in her seat, and stroked the raven's head.

"I...suppose you have valid points." She said, and looked to the other girl, who was nodding along in agreement.

"Of course I do." Tom assured her. "But we shall not speak of such things when we are not private, there may be ears listening who disagree, who might not understand, and I must wait. The time is not right for them to see my true power, my true intentions, do you understand? These things are kept for now, only between like minds." Tom tapped a finger to the side of his head, grinning conspiratorially to the girls, in a dark sort of way that Eileen could not bring herself to completely trust.

She sat across from Tom, listening to Dolores go on and on about Hogwarts, and Slytherin, and everything, and nothing. Eileen bobbed her head at the right moments, or uttered small sounds that gave the impression she was paying attention. However, Tom's eyes had seemed to captivate her, lost and dark they seemed, but in them some sort of power stirred, some sort of poison swirled. She watched his lips curve up into a small, haunting sort of smile. Dolores' voice seemed like a fog in her ears, and in her head she heard his voice.

The dead are lying in the field,  
>Oh, hear Her Kraaak and cry!<br>The gaping wounds, a raven's yield,  
>She comes hungry from the sky.<p>

Eileen gasped, and grabbed the nearest thing to her, which was Dolores white-gloved hand.  
>"Eileen dear, are you alright?"<br>Eileen opened her mouth to answer, but his voice like the hiss of a snake began to repeat.

The dead MUGGLES and MUDBLOODS and TRAITORS  
>Are lying in the field<br>Oh, hear them SCREAM and CRY!  
>Their gaping wounds-<p>

STOP IT! Eileen shouted wordlessly at the voice in her mind, the mad cry of high pitched laughter, like a frozen winter wind raping through the dead-black trees.

I come hungry from the sky.  
>I come hungry.<p>

Again.

The dead are lying in the field-

Muninn gave a loud caw-croak, and flapped his wings threateningly from Eileen's shoulder.

The spell was broken. Eileen was aware that Dolores was going on about her hand being squeezed—indeed Eileen was griping it in her hand like a vice. Tom's expression had not changed, and his horrible eyes—handsome but ugly beneath—did not blink.

"I can make them do what I want, you know." He said very quietly. "Animals. I can make them do what I want. I could make your raven bow to me, if I wished."

"He will not." Eileen snapped, poking her pointed chin up defiantly.

"He will." They all will, and we will be a mighty army of Ravens, pecking out the eyes of Sparrows in the mud. 

His voice again, in her head. She sprang out of her seat, and punched him in the nose. Dolores gave a squeak of surprise, and her small hands covered here wide mouth. Tom just laughed as trails of blood trickled over his lips; a sound which sent shivers twisting up her spine.

-

For the rest of the train trip, Tom was quiet. He sat with his face turned unhappily towards the window, watching the scenery rush by. Eileen and Dolores fell into friendly chatter, after the awkward silence had been broken. Dolores did the larger part of the talking, and Eileen most of the listening. Eileen found that she enjoyed the other girl however, and hoped that they were indeed Sorted into the same house, preferably Slytherin and not one of the others—she did not want her mother to have one more thing to hold against her.

A lady pushing a snack trolley came by and tapped on the door. Dolores opened it, and bought candy which she shared with Eileen, and offered to Tom, who did not respond. They opened chocolate frogs and traded cards, and went through a bag of Every Flavor Beans. Hours later, Tom spoke up to let them know they were nearing the station, and better get their robes on. Eileen and Dolores quickly slipped their school robes on over their uniform jumpers, and soon enough the train did come to a stop.

The first years were ushered across the Black Lake in boats, and Eileen sat with Dolores glad to be away from that eerie boy. Dolores held excitedly onto Eileen's hand. Despite being protective of her personal space, Eileen allowed Dolores chubby hand to remain where it was.

Once inside the castle, the eagerness and anxiety doubled and bubbled through the group of first years. The half-giant was going on and on about how he really wanted to be in Gryffindor. The girl with the shawl and large glasses was busy breathily babbling on about who would be Sorted into which House, and how this person or that person would die a grisly death this year, while no one paid any sort of attention to her. The girl who had been crying on the train was still looking pitiful and pouty, and her whine sounded like the cry of a wounded dog. She moaned about how she wouldn't fit in with any House, and how her year was going to be completely miserable.

The first years were ushered in, and after the introductions by Headmaster Dippet, and the song by the Sorting Hat, each first year was called forward alphabetically.

Eileen was sorted into Slytherin along with first years Orion Black, and Odysseus Filch, the last of who had sat down next to Eileen and was eying her openly from beneath locks of dirty hair. She crinkled her long nose at him; he smelled. He nudged her, grinning with dingy and uneven teeth.

"Fine crow yeh 'ave, lass."

Eileen glared.

"He's a raven, you filthy git."

"Wot's diff'rence it be?"

Eileen turned away from Filch, and back towards the Sorting Ceremony. She was eager to see into which house her companion on the train would be sorted into. Eileen did not make friends easily, and she and Dolores had got along well. She found other children generally annoying, but there was something about Dolores she could tolerate, despite the hideous amounts of pink and poof that surrounded her. Dolores was packaged as a sweet candy, but beneath she was not pink, frilly, or sweet, and that personality interested Eileen.

She knew however, that it would be just her luck that Dolores would be sorted into a different House. Eileen would be stuck with these creepy Slytherin males all on her own—she glanced around the table—well, Malfoy was sternly-pretty, perhaps not as creepy. Abraxas glanced to her with his storm-gray eyes, and nodded at her minutely. Oddly, it sent a flutter through her chest. Don't be ridiculous, Eileen. He's much older, and too pretty—you are much younger, and nothing to bother looking at.

Eileen sniffed, and turned a deaf ear to Filch when he tried speaking to her again. She focused on Dolores, as her small, plump frame moved to the front of the Great Hall. The hat was placed over Dolores' head, and it had barely touched, when it shouted BETTER BE SLYTHERIN!

A hoot, holler, and applause broke out from the Slytherin table. Dolores moved smugly towards the table, her pink-ribboned pigtails bobbing. She took one look at Filch sitting next to Eileen, and huffed.

"Who are you?"

"Odysseus Filch." He offered a grimy hand for Dolores to shake. Dolores wrinkled her nose, and then primly placed her thumb and forefinger to each nostril, pinching her nub of a nose.

"I'm sorry dear, Odorus Filth, did you say?"

Giggles and sneers sounded along the length of the Slytherin table. The Sorting continued but Eileen was not paying attention. Filch narrowed his at Dolores, his greasy, unkempt hair, falling into his face.

"I do believe that you have sat in the wrong chair." Dolores continued, in that twisted-sugar way of hers. She smiled sweetly at the filthy Filch, but her eyes were hard and her meaning clear. She did not have to repeat herself, or resort to dirtier tactics, she had only to look at him with her fluffy-distain and he sulked away, down to the end of the table where he watched Eileen through the grease tendrils of his hair. Dolores cast a cleansing spell onto the chair, and then one more just to be sure.

"Horrible boy, that Odorus Filth." She said, and sat down next to Eileen, giving her a knowing smile.

"Yes." Eileen agreed, glaring down the table at him.

The night finally came to a close. With their bellies full the new batch of Slytherins made their way to the dungeons, following after prefects Malfoy, and Pettigrew. Once in the dungeons, Malfoy broke away with the boys, bidding the girls a solemn good night. Prefect Pettigrew—a small pudgy girl with mousy brown hair and bucked teeth resting against her lower lip, took the girls.

"I'm Polly Pettigrew." She explained, leading the first year girls to their room. "First night is often difficult, being away from home. If any of you need me, don't hesitate. Slytherins stick together." She flashed her prefects badge, and left the girls to settle into their fourposters.

Eileen moved towards a window, and ushered Muninn towards the sill.

"You have to sleep in the owlery tonight. You may come back to me in the morning." Muninn cawed, and then unfurled his inky wings and departed into the starry night. Eileen watched the diamond stars twinkle briefly against a velvet sky, and then went to her bed and curled up on it, enjoying the satin feel of the silver sheets. She watched Dolores pull all manner of pink, fuzzy, cutesy, décor out of her trunk, and began spattering her bed and portion of the green-silver-black room with bubblegum and cotton candy and kittens.

"Dolores?" Eileen called, as Dolores waved her wand, sending a pink feather boa to drape between two of the bedposts.

"Yes, dear?"

"Do you know how to play Gobstones?"

"I don't." Dolores replied, yawning. She untied one of her hair ribbons, and the braided strands of her brown hair undid themselves, twining apart, and falling over her shoulder in long, shiny waves. She began to work the ribbon free of the other braid.

"Then I'll teach you tomorrow, after classes."

Dolores' second braid unwound. The shorter girl moved towards Eileen's bed, one of the bright pink ribbons dangling from her fingers.

"I would love for you to teach me." Dolores said, smiling at Eileen. She tied the vivid ribbon around one of Eileen's bedposts, and into a bow.

Eileen thought it garish, but she did not remove it.


	2. Chapter 2

Eileen's first week at Hogwarts lefter her unable to sleep well. She had thought that the nice plush bed with the pulled curtains upon its posts would lull her to sleep much gentler than the lumpy mattress in the attic. However she must've grown accustomed to the lumps, because she found it hard to sleep. She missed the creaking sounds that the beams made late at night, and Hemlock curled up at her head purring her a lullaby. She even missed the muffled sounds of her mother, henpecking her poor father below.

The last few nights she had spent up with Dolores, doing homework, or just listening to the girl chatter on. Eileen had also been giving Dolores regular lessons in Gobstones. Dolores did not have her own set, so she had convinced (bullied, rather) a first year boy into 'loaning' her his set for the lessons. By the third night of practicing, Dolores had overcome her habitual shrieking each time one of her Gobstones had been knocked out of the circle by Eileen's shooter, and thus the expelled wizard marble would squirt Dolores with goo.

"You're cheating!" Dolores had protested, once again. Eileen had really lost count the number of times the girl had accused her of it.

"I'm not cheating. You have terrible aim. You couldn't hit Professor Dumbledore's big old crooked nose with a Beaters bat!" Eileen crowed, leaning down to take her next shot. She aimed carefully and sent her shooter flying, knocking Dolores' last Gobstone out of the drawn circles. The Gobstone squirted its putrid liquid. Eileen smirked, hearing Dolores' unsung shriek in her head. Dolores just glared down at the fuzzy pink sweater she wore over her uniform shirt.

"Eileen, my favorite sweater! It's just ruined now."

"Oh, stop fussing. You sound like my mother always on about messy clothes." Eileen grabbed her wand, and tapped it to the stain on Dolores shirt and spoke the charm her mother had taught her at quite a young age. The stain vanished. "After you get a bit better at regular, then we can play Jack Stone." Eileen went on, gathering her Gobstones together. "It's a bit more challenging."

"I can't wait, dear." Dolores said sweetly, but the sarcasm was evident, and Eileen smiled. "And stop smiling like that, before I wipe that smirk from your face."

"Yes Mam!" Eileen poked her tongue out at the younger girl, who looked mock-offended.

Dolores stood to her feet, crossing her arms over her chest, jutting her hip out, thick at even eleven.

"Don't you dare make me come over there, cheeky little brat!"

Eileen wanted to grin at her, but she kept her face serious, as she stood too, thin and towering well above her short friend.

"Go on! I'm right here." Eileen's dark eyes glittered.

Dolores flung herself at Eileen, tackling her to the floor and the two girls rolled around giggling, wrestling, pulling hair, biting. Eileen's hands wrapped into the thick curls of Dolores' hair, pulling at her ribbons as the smaller girl shrieked and dug her nails in to any of Eileen's pale skin that she could find. The two of them carried on in a tangle on the floor, ripping their stockings and getting chalk dust from the Gobstone circles smeared over their clothing. Eileen's mother would've been furious with her.  
>"Surrender!" Eileen cried, feeling ridiculous and childish as she tickled Dolores' sides, making the other girl snort and hiccup laughter as she tried to complain. Dolores finally overcame, and rolled Eileen onto her back, and sat down hard on her chest before the thin girl could regroup and wiggle her way out.<p>

"Omph!" Eileen looked up at Dolores, who was smiling smugly down at her with hair and ribbons a wild tangle. Her round cheeks were flushed pink, shirt pushed up revealing the roll of her belly above her skirt.

"Surrender, Ms. Prince." Dolores said wickedly. "I win now. Maybe I'll spit on you like your nasty little marbles spit on me."

"That's vile!" Eileen cried, flailing her arms and trying to breathe with the weight of the other girl pressing down upon her ribcage.

"It's only fair." Dolores reasoned, opening her mouth and letting a thick strand of saliva dangle from her tongue.

"No!" Eileen wiggled, tips of her fingers brushing and then curling around her wand which lay on the floor.

"Girls!" A new voice interjected. Eileen looked at Polly Pettigrew with her shiny Prefects badge. Eileen saw the girl upside down from her position. She used the distraction to her advantage, and knocked Dolores off of her. The girl gave a squawk as she fell back, her skirt flying up to reveal pudgy legs and a round backside covered in pink cotton knickers.

"Eileen!" Dolores righted herself, and smoothed out the pleats of her skirt, looking prim and offended.

"I'm glad the two of you are making friends." Polly smiled, looking like a large-toothed rabbit. "But it's time for bed." The Prefect turned on her heel and left, no doubt to check the other girls dorms before starting her rounds for the night.

"Bleeding little chancer!" Dolores bit out, after Polly had left.

"Bint." Eileen bit back just as acidly. She climbed onto her bed and running her fingers through her black hair to comb it out.

"Wanker!"

"Grotty slag with pink knickers!"

The girls held a silent staring contest at that insult, until one of them broke.

"You blinked." Dolores announced, smiling sweetly.

"On purpose, 'cause I was tired of looking at your awful face." Eileen said, mimicking Dolores' honied voice.

"Not as tired I was, looking at yours."

Dolores and Eileen had readied for bed without further words to each other, curled up, and drawn their curtains around their four posters. Moments later, a voice hissed in the darkness.

"Eileen?"

Eileen poked her head out around her curtain, and saw Dolores across from her, smiling in the semi-darkness.

"Goodnight, Eileen."

A corner of Eileen's lips curled up.

"Goodnight, Dolores."

And now Eileen had laid awake for hours, thinking over the day, and particularly over that scenario again and again. She had never been one to rough house with the other children. She thought they were ridiculous. Why she had done so with Dolores she wasn't quite sure—but it had been rather fun. In an added bonus, she had thoroughly torn her stockings, and could not possibly continue to wear them. She wished her mother could see the sheer ribbons they had become. A mischievous grin broke out on Eileen's face, as she considered getting an envelope and sending the tattered things back to her mother via Munnin. She would probably have a howler exploding at breakfast the next morning.

After a bit more restless tossing and turning, Eileen could stand it no longer. She threw her covers off, and ducked out of bed, leaving her curtain rippling after her. She knew she would be in trouble for being out after hours, but a walk seemed the only thing that might help. She certainly couldn't take any more sleepless thrashing in her bed. Besides, she was a girl who was rarely noticed, so she was confident she could sneak out briefly and then back without being caught, as she had done the nights before. Sometimes on these secret walks, she thought of herself as a spy. Once she even had spied something interesting; Prefects Malfoy and Potter slacking off of their duties, and snogging each other senseless in a shadowy corner.

Eileen moved stealthily through some of the less traveled hallways, enjoying the feel of the cool stone beneath her bare feet. She knew she was risking much if she were caught—the young Hogwarts caretaker Apollyon Pringle was no slouch. In her first few days at Hogwarts, Eileen had already heard horror stories of his punishments past down from the older Slytherins. Eileen thought some of them might just be trying to scare the firsties, but when Abraxas Malfoy confirmed some of the stories, with a serious nod of his head and nothing more, she believed them to be true. Abraxas did not seem like the type of boy who would lie, or support tall-tales and rumor.

Despite knowing this, Eileen went for her night time walk. She was a very quiet girl, and it wasn't often others were drawn to notice her. If she were trying to avoid detection, she could be even more successful. Eileen stuck to the shadows, up and down a few hallways, thinking and taking in how different things looked when they were sleeping. She was just considering that once she learned transfiguration, she would transfigure one of Dolores' pink ribbons into a snake—when Eileen stopped suddenly, hearing a small sound from around the corner.

Eileen went still and pressed herself up against the cool stone wall. Her heart beat harder against her breastbone, her eyes wider, her body and mind now on higher alert. There were no footsteps, but what had sounded like a sniff or snuffle, perhaps someone up and about with a cold, or someone was crying. Soon enough the sound came again, accompanied by small sob. Eileen peeked around the corner, and in the shadows she saw a small girl huddled against the wall, head resting on her knees.

Eileen inched closer, keeping as quiet as she could. The small girl clutched her knees, sniffed, and sang lowly. Her voice warbled with her tears, and hovered between an off key whisper, and broken sobs.

Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag,  
>And smile, smile, smile...<p>

Eileen stayed motionless, against the wall, just a few feet away. The girl wiped her eyes and cheeks gleaming in the low light. She gave a big watery sniffle, and went on singing, squeezing her eyes closed.

What's the use of worrying?  
>It never was worth while, so<br>Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag,  
>And smile, smile, smile...<p>

The girl tried to start over, but dissolved into her tears. This seemed a bit much for a firstie who was simply missing home, Eileen thought. What a ridiculous child—but suddenly, the crying girl jerked her head up from her knees with a gasp, and peered around into the darkness.

"Who-wh-whose the-there?" She squeaked, stumbling to her feet, frightened.

"It's just me." Eileen said quietly, stepping out from the shadows. "Nothing to be frightened of...unless you irritate me too much."

The girl was still pouring tears, her dark hair stuck to the sides of her flushed face.

"What in Merlin's name are you on about anyway? Just missing your parents?"

"Of course I miss them." The girl sniffed, eyes burning in the darkness. "They're dead. They were killed by the damn Krauts. They've been dropping bombs on us—they're trying to destroy the dockyards. They've been dropping them since last year...I remember the exact day...they've never stopped. When there's going to be raids, everyone goes out to the countryside or to the raid shelters. There's nothing but rubble...people dead...the smell—the air-" The girl choked on her words, curling back down onto the floor, rocking herself. Eileen was stunned and confused. She had no idea what this girl was going on about. Eileen took a couple tentative steps away from her.

Eileen startled and spun around when she bumped into a human form. Abraxas Malfoy was looking down his long nose at her, his eyes and his prefects badge glinting in the darkness. He said not a word to her, but moved past her and knelt next to the girl huddled and sobbing.

"The sirens! Don't you hear them—the sirens, the sirens, they're coming! The planes are coming, the—the bombs—dead—burning-"

Abraxas bowed his head and closed his eyes briefly, a flicker of what might have been pain, passing over his features. He opened his eyes once more, affixing his ever serious expression, and spoke softly to girl, urging her to tell him what house she was from, urging her to let him return her to it, and other things Eileen could not hear as she hung back in the darkness, confused and frozen by the scene.

At last, Abraxas convinced the girl, who he helped to stand up and gave her a handkerchief to wipe her eyes.

"Ms. Prince." Abraxas said in an eerie, cold voice. "You will come with us, then I will escort you back to the Slytherin dorms...where you should be asleep."

Eileen followed quietly as Abraxas took the girl to the hospital wing, assuring her that matron Posy Pomphrey would give her a calming draught.

Eileen and Abraxas headed back towards Slytherin. For a while, Abraxas was silent, and Eileen dare not risk looking at him. She knew she was lucky he hadn't already punished her with detention, though perhaps he was just drawing out the agony of impending doom. Eileen listened to their footfalls as they walked, the girls strange, terrified cries running round her head.

At last Eileen could stand the silence no more, and in a small voice she spoke.

"She's a bit off, isn't she? I mean, what was she going on about anyway?"

Abraxas stopped abruptly, and stiffened. His lips turned down into a more severe frown.

"She is a Muggleborn witch, Ms. Prince. I am not surprised you are ignorant to it, but right now there is a terrible war taking place outside our door. In their world, Ms. Prince, there is no safety. What she is speaking of is something that was called 'the blitz'. It seems to have ended early late this spring—or at least there has been a lull. Night after night, Nazi aeroplanes would fill the sky, the noise of them drowning the wailing sirens below. They dropped enormous bombs onto Muggle cities, turning everything to rubble. Her parents were killed in one of these such raids." Again, something that seemed like a wince of pain flickered minutely in Abraxas' silvery eyes, behind his half-moon glasses. It was obvious that whatever that was, he had built himself up to conceal it.

Abraxas began to move again, and for a moment Eileen stood behind, her mind working over it all. She jogged to catch up to him, her thin nightgown rustling. She didn't know what "Nazi's" or "aeroplanes" were. She did know of bombs, but only small joke ones the children sometimes planted in her mother's flower garden. Bombs that would turn entire cities to rubble would be massive.

Muggles destroying Muggles. She remembered her mother mentioning it vaguely, when her father was reading The Prophet one morning. Eileen had not thought anything of the general remark, but perhaps it had been linked with this war Abraxas said was raging on in the non-magical world. She thought of mentioning that her mother had crowed with a dark smirk, that the worthless Muggles ought to be destroyed by one another.

Eileen did not repeat it now, however, despite that she was sure most other Slytherins would not pose an argument against this. Abraxas however, was very different. Abraxas did not sneer at the crying Mudblood, he did not find himself too good to help her to the hospital ward, Abraxas was openly friends with a Gryffindor, and in the shadows they were even more—snogging despite house differences. Eileen had the feeling that Abraxas would not appreciate her comment that it didn't matter, that they were only Muggles, that they all ought to be done away with. She did not understand why he should care, but it was very obvious to her that he did.

Silence reigned once again, footsteps the only sound, until Abraxas had taken her back to her dorm. Before allowing Eileen to disappear into her room, Abraxas issued a detention for the following evening. Eileen accepted it with a small nod, and went inside.

Eileen curled up beneath her covers again, but tonight, her walk had done no good in aiding her sleep. She now had more questions than ever, and her thoughts roiled even more fiercely.

At breakfast the next morning, Eileen spent more time yawning than eating. Dolores balanced things out, as she ate enough breakfast for the both of them. Eileen only half listened to Dolores rambling on, her sweet voice a background noise, and Tom sitting on the other side of her with a library book propped open against the pumpkin juice pitcher.

The owls had swooped in earlier, dropping letters and a few rolled copies of The Prophet. Munnin had flown in too, his ebony wings stretched wide as he glided. He had nothing for her, but his albino brother came gracefully after, stopping long enough to let Eileen untie the note on his leg, and treat him with a strip of bacon before sending him off. The letter was short and to-the-point, just a note from her father, inquiring how her first week was turning out. Munnin perched on her shoulder, cawing until she gave him a corner of her toast. He jerked his head, seeming offended that Huginn had gotten the better morsel.

Throughout the Great Hall, small clusters of students at various tables huddled round copies of what Eileen assumed was The Prophet. Charlus Potter took one of the copies, and moved towards the Slytherin table and handed it to Abraxas, who looked down his long nose as he read.

Abraxas folded the paper, and rose. Students were beginning to exit the Great Hall and make their way to first classes. Abraxas stopped at Eileen's chair, and handed the folded paper to her.

"Come on you lot." Abraxas urged the Slytherins who lingered at the table.

Dolores followed after Eileen, as Eileen made her way out the doors of the Great Hall. She stopped just long enough to open the news paper, and read the headlines. Dolores peered over her elbow, and Tom had stopped to linger nearby, a strange sort of smirk ghosting over his lips.

-French Resistance fighter Pierre Roche is executed by the Nazi occupation force.-  
>-Some 200 RAF planes mount the biggest air raid to date on Berlin. British bombed the city overnight.-<br>-Nazi German army sieges Leningrad. A desperate Joseph Stalin asks Winston Churchill for immediate military aid.-  
>-Concerned that Russia may be harboring a homegrown population of Nazi sympathizers, Joseph Stalin exiles 600,000 Volga-area ethnic Germans to Siberia.-<p>

An older red-haired Ravenclaw girl nudged Eileen, pointing to the headline about the bombing of Berlin.

"Damn Krauts are getting theres now." She said, and took the hand of a dark haired boy who stood next to her. He touched a star-like symbol that hung from a fine chain around his neck.

"It isn't enough." He said darkly, his fingers touching the points of the star pendant. "They're monsters, and it will never be enough." His dark eyes were full of tears, his face set in an expression of hard rage.

The red-haired girl looked at him sympathetically, and laced her arm around his waist, and the couple moved on. Next to her, Dolores snorted.

"Did you see him? He was about to cry. They're weak, you know—Mudbloods."

Eileen folded the paper, and raised a thick eyebrow at Dolores.

"They shouldn't be here." Dolores went on, staring after the retreating couple.

"Last years Muggle papers were much more interesting." Tom said in a very quiet voice, startling the girls a bit, as he had shown up quietly. The three of them began to walk.

"There were always headlines about the Germans bombing English cities. Every morning at breakfast, little knots of Mudbloods, and Halfies, would stand gathered round Muggle papers crying and carrying on-weeping over letters from home." Tom laughed, and the fact that his laughter did not sound dark when at least it should have—made it all the more eerie.

"They're weak. They're animals." He added, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "And they shouldn't be here. Dolores knows. You, Eileen, should have no sympathy upon them for destroying themselves. In fact, they are doing our kind a favor."

Tom moved ahead of the girls, leaving them with that thought. Eileen saw him stop to chat with Professor Slughorn, Tom smiling a bit and seeming nothing more than a model student.

"He's so brilliant." Dolores said, the edge of a sigh to her words. "Don't you think so?"

Eileen did not know what to think.

AN: Was a little worried about how this turned out. idk. please R&R! Very much appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

A/n: I have nothing against Jewish people. This is just a story. Anything said in the writing reflects opinions of the characters in the story, not opinions of the writer.

The first few months at Hogwarts had flown past. Christmas would be upon Eileen shortly, and she would travel back home to spend the holidays with her parents. She was not particularly looking forward to it; she had rather grown to liking life better without her mother squawking around every corner like a malnourished bird, staring down her nose with eyes like angry beetles. She supposed she should be thankful that she had a home and parents to return to. Most of the Muggleborn students would stay at the castle over the holidays, either because they had nothing to go home to, or it was simply too dangerous for them to return. It was a very tough time of the year, and despite the decorations flying up around every corner, there were still many sad and somber faces. Sometimes seeing them, Eileen felt a pang of guilt over being so sour herself—she didn't have any particular reason to be—no tragedies had occurred in her life such as had befallen the Muggleborns, it was simply her nature to be solemn.

More measures were taken to try and combat the negativity that permeated the stone walls; there had been many clubs and activities born to give students ways to occupy their minds and their time, rather than recalling what horrible news had been delivered over breakfast. The dueling club was quite popular, while on the other end of the spectrum, there was the Divination Club which Trelawney had attempted to start, as she was quite upset that the subject was not taught in classes. She had only a few signatures on her sign-up sheet, even after weeks. She might've had more had she not had the habit of predicting the doom of each and every student she met. Her whimsical prophecies of demise were not well accepted, and there were times when Eileen thought that the girl whose eyes swam beneath her large glasses might be even more of an outcast than Moaning Myrtle, who was constantly sobbing and wailing over the slightest offense.

None of the clubs and groups—as numerous as they were—really appealed to Eileen. She was not prone to involving herself in groups, and just as playtime had seemed to her as a child, these groups to her seemed pointless. Eileen was the type of girl who would rather entertain herself with her studies, reading, taking a walk—quiet things that involved only herself, or her one close friend. Dolores was with Eileen most of the time. They were hardly seen separated. They ate together, had most classes together, studied together, and spent most free time together. Eileen even allowed Dolores to do her hair—thought she refused to wear any of the elaborate creations or pink ribbon-y horrors outside their dorm.

Dolores had insisted since she played Gobstones with Eileen every night—despite her seldom winning it and more than often being spat upon by the nasty little buggers—that Eileen ought to do something Dolores liked to do. So, Eileen was to have her long, pin-straight hair done up nightly, after the Gobstone games came to an end. A few times Dolores had caught Eileen stretching the games out on purpose, deliberately missing her shots, in order to further delay Dolores from touching her hair.  
>They would fight about it, but not seriously. In the end Eileen would allow herself to be subdued by her small friend, and would withstand the magically induced curls, the bows, braids, weaves, ribbons, and all other manner of things. Eileen despised pins the most, as she would be picking them out of her hair for days.<p>

In fact, Eileen found herself grumbling over her potion at her front row desk, when a stray pin fell out of her hair and with a 'plonk' landed into the nearly completed mixture, fouling it up. Eileen muttered a string of curses under her breath.

"Hem hem." Dolores cast her a sideways glance with a small smile. "You know dear, you shouldn't drop things into the potion." Dolores grinned.

"Next it'll be your head that I drop into it." Eileen snipped irritably. She called Slughorn over to their table so he could magic their potion away; they would have to start over. Dolores began to chop another root, while Eileen worked her long fingers through her hair, now paranoid that random objects would fall out of it and ruin their brew.

"What's wrong twiggy, Screaming Lice? Flatulent fleas? Dandruff hex?" The insults, and then a chuckle from the girls seated behind Eileen and Dolores; Olive Hornby and the hulking Magdalene Bulstrode. Olive had been the one sneering insults, and Maggie had been the one to giggle. It was a very twittery and girlish sound, which seemed odd coming from something so large and blockish. Eileen spun around, fixing them with her darkest glare.

"I don't have any of those things." Eileen hissed dangerously. "But I'd rather have them on my head, than on my twa-"

"Miss Prince." Slughorn raised an eyebrow at her. He had reappeared near the table to see how she and Dolores were getting along with their second attempt. "My dear, your cauldron is in front of you, not behind. Pay them no attention. Ah—very good grating, Miss Underbridge."

"It's Umbridge." Dolores huffed.

"Right, isn't that what I said? Good job!" Slughorn grinned, and headed to another table. Dolores lips squeezed together into a tight little knot of annoyance.

"Keep grating, Miss Underbridge." Eileen nudged her.

"Of course, Miss Fleabag." Dolores nudged her back, and then continued grating.

-x-

The week seemed to pass on slowly towards Christmas. Many of the professors had given up trying to teach anything of much weight, as the focus of many students was obviously elsewhere. Professor Binns plowed along as usual, about Goblin wars and whatnot.

Dolores had considered joining the Charms Club, and she dragged Eileen off to attend one of their meetings in an unused classroom. All ages and Houses could be found in the room, waiting for that days meeting to begin. The club was led by a 7th year Hufflepuff, a boy who looked more like a girl, and swept gracefully around the room as he spoke. He sat the small, croaking frog atop a podium at the front of the room, and with a wave of his wand and an unspoken charm, the frog swelled to an enormous size. Near the front of the room, a shriek sounded in surprise:

"It looks like that Umbridge girl!"

The girl, a red haired Ravenclaw, pressed her hand over her mouth immediately at her outburst. The entire room erupted into laughter. Dolores was squeezing tight to Eileen's hand—she was mortified—and she was outraged. Eileen didn't dare try and shake her hand away from Dolores' gripping fingers. She watched the shorter girl as she stared coldly at the Ravenclaw, her eyes flickering with her ire and tears. Eileen remembered her; she was an older girl, and she was not often seen without her boyfriend who wore that star symbol on a necklace.

The frog gave a loud, burp-like croak, and the laughter continued even wilder.

Without a word, Dolores turned on her heel and pulled Eileen along with her. Eileen went, keeping up until the two of them were outside in the cold winter air, stray snowflakes swirling around their faces. Dolores finally let go of Eileen's hand, and Eileen shook it out. She remained quiet, watching Dolores' pink ribbons flap like small flags as the air gusted harder, and whipped around the two of them, burning with its chill.

"That's alright, Eileen." Dolores said sweetly, though her eyes and the calculating smile betrayed her. "I think I will give our lovely little ginger a Christmas gift." Dolores closed her eyes against the biting wind, letting it assault her and turn her cheeks and nose a raw looking scarlet. "Let them laugh."

"Dolores, come on." Eileen laid a hand on Dolores' round shoulder, squeezing it gently. "It's freezing, and the wind is fit to blow me away. I'm sure you wouldn't want that, as you'd have no one to play Gobsontes with. I know you would weep and gnash your teeth should your opponent be lost to the gale, and there were no more games to be played. I just couldn't allow such a devastating thing, we must go inside."

"You're so thoughtful." Dolores replied, both girls smiling wryly at each other.

"We'll stop by the kitchen first, and see if one of the House Elves will give us some hot cocoa." Eileen decided, as the two made their way back across the grounds, towards the castle.

"They will, or I'll kick them." Dolores kicked a rock with the toe of her shoe, to demonstrate. "Nasty creatures." She added, wrinkling her nose.

The two of them walked back towards their dorm, sipping their steaming cups of cocoa—which had been acquired without having to resort to elf kicking—Dolores was a bit disappointed. Eileen was quiet, listening to Dolores talk about this and that. She couldn't help but wonder just what sort of 'gift' Dolores intended to give to their 'lovely little ginger' as Dolores had so sweetly named her. Whatever it would be, there wasn't a lot of time. The week would soon draw to a close, and Dolores would be boarding the train with Eileen, so they could both return to their respective homes for the holidays.

The next two days, Dolores was noticeably preoccupied with her plotting. Eileen caught her watching the red-haired girl and her boyfriend many times throughout the day, but Eileen did not question it right away. Finally her curiosity could be kept at bay no longer. She and Dolores were at dinner, but uncharacteristically, Dolores had not touched a thing on her plate. Instead, Dolores stared coldly at her targets, and occasionally at Olive and Maggie. Just now Olive was partaking in her favorite pastime: harassing Myrtle. Maggie sat by watching, and shoveling food into her mouth. Soon enough, Myrtle burst into tears and ran from the Great Hall, no doubt to hide herself away in one of the bathrooms.

"The Mudblood deserves it." Dolores said conversationally, referring to Myrtle. "But not us, Eileen."

"'Leen—lookit, made yeh card fae Chris'miss!"

Eileen turned to Filch, who like Olive and Maggie was also participating in his favorite recreation: bothering her. Eileen snatched the handmade card, frowned at it, and flicked it carelessly onto the table. Dolores 'accidentally' knocked her glass of pumpkin juice over, spilling it all over the card.

"Oops...oh dear." Dolores mock-fretted. She pressed her hands to the sides of her face and looked worriedly at the increasing pumpkin puddle, instead of making any motion to upright the glass and clean up the mess. "How clumsy."

"S'nae problem, lookit."

Filch grabbed the card, and shook it off. Dolores squeaked when droplets of pumpkin juice splattered onto her face and hair, but Eileen got the worst of it. Juice dripped from her hair and the tip of her nose, and she stared at the idiot Filch with an expression as somber as a gravestone. He seemed not to notice it, and went on fussing with the card. He waved his wand at it, invoking a drying charm, however the card caught fire. Dolores reached over Eileen, her short arm just barely long enough to reach and grab the flaming mess from Filch. Dolores shoved the fiery card into a water pitcher. The poor thing was now officially ruined to the point of no return.

"How...disappointing." Eileen deadpanned, lifting a lock of her dripping hair.

"Ah, doan be a-frettin' an' a-fussin', wee bonnie Leen!" Filch whipped something out of the inside of his stained sweater, and hung it over Eileen's head. "Doan look up nae, lass..." He leaned in towards her, smooshing his lips together in the most horrible expression Eileen had ever seen. Eileen was terrified, and with a yelp she scooted back so quickly she fell out of her chair.

"Leave her alone!" Dolores stood up on her chair, and tore the sprig of mistletoe out of Filch's grasp. She flung it to the ground, hopped down from her chair, and ground it against the floor with the heel of her shoe. Filch's face fell, and his shoulders slumped. Eileen picked herself up, glaring daggers at him.

"Who do you think you are? I'm eleven years old—I don't want to be kissed—especially not by a scratter like YOU." Eileen informed him, with a jab of her finger to his chest. "Find someone your own age, what are you, some sort of pervert?"

"They all are." Dolores said from behind her, staring darkly at Filch. Dolores grabbed Eileen's hand defensively.

"What's going on here?" Abraxas appeared with his gleaming badge, and looked down his nose at the crushed mistletoe. He picked it up; the damaged thing dangled limply from his fingertips. Abraxas looked from Filch, to Eileen, and then back to Filch again. "Haven't I made it clear to you, Filch, to stop bothering Eileen? I believe I've only mentioned it every other day since the beginning of term." Abraxas was unamused, but then again, he was always that way.

"Odorous Filth was-" Dolores began, but Abraxas looked at her sternly.

"Miss Umbridge, name calling is uncalled for-"

"Ooh...mistletoe..." Charlus' lanky form moved in beside Abraxas, eying the crushed thing with a smirk and a glitter in his warm eyes. "Isn't Christmas time just lovely?"

Abraxas' frown twitched at one corner. Eileen thought his cheeks looked slightly pink, but it might just have been the lighting.

"Go on, the two of you, before I changed my mind." Abraxas made shooing motions at Dolores and Eileen. Filch made to leave as well, but Abraxas curled a hand around the boys wrist, stopping him. "Not you. Damnation, Filch, can't you count? Or perhaps it's just your hearing. If I have to tell you once more to stop pestering-"

"But-!" Filch whined. Eileen had stopped a few feet away, so she could watch the rest of the confrontation—she just had to.

"Miss Prince is too young for you to be-"

"But Braxy!" Filch pleaded.

Abraxas twitched at the bastardization of his name. He hated nicknames, and he was quite sure that was the worst variation he had ever heard. Charlus was guffawing behind him. Abraxas swiped Charlus' hat off of his mess of hair, and smacked Filch in the head with it.

"Detention." Abraxas declared, letting Filch go. Abraxas turned to Charlus, who was still laughing fit to burst, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"B-b-but Braxy..." Charlus mimicked, sputtering with laughter. Abraxas smacked him with the hat too.

-x-

Once out of the Great Hall, Dolores spied Tom, and pulled Eileen towards him.

"I need to speak with him, regarding the ginger's Christmas gift. Tom!" Dolores called.

Eileen walked with Tom and Dolores as they headed to the Astronomy Tower. Dolores had insisted the speak in private. Eileen combed her fingers through her hair, frowning as it stuck together; she had cast a drying charm, but the pumpkin juice still left her hair and face in a sticky mess. The three of them climbed the stairs, Dolores chit-chatting about this and that, waiting to really get to the actual point of her conversation. Once the trio were behind closed doors, Dolores took on a businesslike attitude, which seemed eerily unnatural for any normal eleven year old.

Eileen sat herself in the window ledge and looked out through the dusty glass, onto the snowy grounds below. Fingers and patterns of ice spider-webbed around the corners and edges of the glass. She touched the tip of her fingers to one of the icy patches, manipulating the design. Eileen listened in quietly as Dolores and Tom conversed.

"That red-haired Ravenclaw girl who is always around with her Mudblood Jew—do you know the one?" Dolores asked.

"I know who you mean." Tom replied, glancing over the top of Dolores head, to lock eyes with Eileen for just a moment. A shiver coursed up and down Eileen's spine. She turned away from his gaze quickly, and looked back out the window, her breathes coming in quick little puffs against the windowpane as her heart momentarily raced with an unknown fear. She had not shivered from the cold.

"I want to give her a Christmas gift, don't you think that's a lovely idea, Tom? But I need the Mud-Jew's star for it. Could you help me get it, dear?"

The Mudblood Jew. Eileen had had read the word 'Jew' or 'Jewish' in some of the newspaper articles she got a hold of over breakfast. She knew those were the majority of the people who the Nazi's were killing, but she really didn't understand why, or who these people were. Eileen continued to manipulate fragile patterns into the corners of ice, now a six pointed star like the one worn by several students. What did it mean, exactly?

"Why would I help you, Dolores?" Tom asked, and Eileen could hear his footfalls as he slowly circled Dolores. Eileen could imagine his eyes, dark, calculating, somehow terrifying and hypnotizing, but warm and soft when he needed them to be. "Would you help me in return?"

"Of course!" Dolores pledged right away, agreeing before she even had any idea just what Tom would require of her. Eileen did not like how eager Dolores was to help Tom; unlike Dolores, Eileen could not trust him.

"Then, I will get the pendant for you. First Dolores, you will get a book for me, and you will keep it for me when I am not studying it. It wouldn't do for me to be caught with such a book, you see."

"Is it in the library?" Dolores asked, seemingly unconcerned that this book was something Tom would rather have pinned on her than himself, should it be discovered.

"It is." Tom stopped circling. "It is in the Restricted Section."

-x-

"Don't you think it odd that Tom wants some sort of restricted book?" Eileen hissed, as she went along with Dolores later that night, to attempt to retrieve the book.

"I think it odd that they keep books at Hogwarts that should be restricted—what is the point of having them, if no one can read them?" Dolores answered, and then pressed a finger to her lips in a 'shush' gesture.

Eileen's heart was hammering fast, and her throat was dry with anxiety. She hadn't felt so afraid of being caught when she had used to take her nightly walks, before she had become used to sleeping in the dorm, but now she did. This was not an innocent walk after hours—this was something Eileen did not feel comfortable with. She just couldn't allow Dolores to do it by herself, however.

The girls were lucky enough to sneak into the library unnoticed. Eileen's stomach twisted and tied itself into miserable knots. She kept looking over her shoulder as Dolores scanned over rows and rows of restricted books, once they were successfully past the ropes.

"It's up there." Dolores whispered, pointing to a high shelf that neither she nor Eileen could possibly reach. "We could try Accio..." Dolores suggested.

"We don't know the charm well enough, we might bring every book in the library off the shelves." Eileen tilted her head back, thinking on how they could get it. She looked back to Dolores, and then knelt. "Sit on my shoulders."

Dolores did so, and Eileen carefully stood up with her.

"Now, stand on my shoulders." Eileen instructed. "And stop having so many sausages at breakfast—ow!" Eileen groused, as Dolores shifted her weight and attempted to stand.

"You're going to drop me!" Dolores hissed, both of them wobbling considerably as Dolores struggled to get into a standing position using Eileen's small and bony shoulders for support.

"When I do, I'll make sure to drop you on your arse, where all the cushion is. Does that bolster your confidence?" Eileen snipped.

"So unflattering." Dolores whispered, the offense clear in her response.

"Do you want to be flattered, or dropped on your head?"

"Shh!"

"Ow!"

"Shut it!"

The two finally found their balance. Eileen bit her tongue against the ache in her shoulders as Dolores stood on them. Dolores stretched to reach the book. Her fingers brushed it. Eileen bit her tongue harder, tasting blood. She was ready to let out a string of unladylike curses at any moment. Dolores' chubby fingers closed around the spine of the book.

"I've got it!" Dolores hissed, and then yelped when the two of them toppled backwards and fell into a heap on the floor.

"Damn—damn it all, Eileen!" Dolores picked herself up, quickly grabbing the book and rubbing at her rear end. "Get up—we need to get out of here! Someone's coming! Oh—why can't you be sturdier!" Dolores fumbled for Eileen's hand, then grabbed it and helped the other girl up.

"Why can't you be taller?" Eileen shot back, as the two ducked under the ropes, and ran for it.

"Wait up for me!" Dolores called, her short legs no match for Eileen's long ones in the mad-dash back to the Slytherin dorms.

"Run faster!" Eileen gasped, and whipped her head around quickly to glance at Dolores who had fallen considerably behind, and then whipped it back so she could see where she was—going. Eileen bowled someone over in her sprint, and the two rolled around in a tangled heap on the stone floor for a moment.

"Miss Prince, what-"

It was Abraxas of course, and there was a crunch as Eileen's hand accidentally came down on his fallen glasses.

"Oh, Merlin. Abraxas—I'm so sorry!" Eileen panted, groping around on the floor for Abraxas' glasses. She picked them up, and they lay broken in her hands.

Abraxas picked himself up as well, and brushed his robes off.

"So Miss Prince, you've given up your late night strolls for a midnight marathon?" Abraxas snapped, annoyed at having been barreled into and knocked to the floor. He took his glasses from Eileen, and taped them with his wand, repairing them.

"I—"

"What were you doing up at such an hour, and who—or what—were you running from?" Abraxas settled his glasses back onto his long nose, and grabbed Eileen's wrist. "You may explain as we walk back to the dungeons."

"Ah—Peeves." Eileen said quickly, for once being thankful that the annoying poltergeist haunted the halls, or else she would've had to work harder to come up with a plausible story. "I was up walking, as I do sometimes, and Peeves found me. He was throwing...throwing things at me. He wouldn't leave me be! He frightened me!"

"Miss Prince, Peeves is only a poltergeist, he will not harm you. An intelligent young woman such as yourself should know better." Abraxas' hard gray eyes locked with hers, and she did not miss his meaning.

"I'm sorry I was out. I know I shouldn't be."

"I'm not sure I believe you, Miss Prince. You will serve detention with Slughorn the last two nights before you leave for Christmas, and I shall hope that when you return from holiday, you will have learned to stay where you belong after curfew. I should also think you would know better than to associate with...certain young men, and mind you, I am not referring to Mr. Filch."

The two of them had stopped outside the Slytherin dorms. Eileen nodded mutely, and swallowed, her throat feeling like old parchment.

Eileen slid the curtain to her bed open, and stumbled back in shock when Dolores burst out, whacking her with a pillow.

"You left me!" Dolores hissed in the darkness.

"I took detentions for this, you stumpy little shrew!" Eileen grabbed the pillow, and wrestled it away from Dolores, who fell back onto Eileen's bed, panting. "So...Eileen crawled onto her bed, and slipped beneath the covers. "Do you have it?"

"Yes." Dolores whispered. "It's safe, I'll show Tom tomorrow."

"What's it about, exactly?" Eileen asked, after a long moment of silence, where nothing had been heard but Dolores' labored breathing.

"It's called "The Veil"." Dolores said, and sat up, straightening her night gown in the darkness. "It's all morbid, something to do with death and...you know...the other side."

"I don't think Tom should be reading that." Eileen said, worrying the edge of her cover with her pale hands.

"You're not his Mum." Dolores said simply, and slid off of Eileen's bed, and padded across to her own. "Good night, Eileen."

Eileen decided she was very glad that she wasn't Tom's mother.

-x-

Eileen and Dolores had only a day left. The next morning, they would take the train away from Hogwarts. Today it must be then, that Dolores' plan would unfold. The morning brought new reports about the Muggle war. Eileen didn't think she could look at any of them today. She slumped over the breakfast table and didn't feel like eating. Her shoulders were sore from last night, and she was worried about what was to happen with Tom, Dolores, and the star-pendant. Dolores had found Tom first thing in the morning, before breakfast, and had pulled him into a corner to lift the flap of her obnoxious pink bag, to reveal the spine of the book he had requested. She kept it for him even now, as they sat at the breakfast table in the Great Hall. Tom had said it would be too risky for him to keep it during the holidays, so Dolores would hold on to it, and when she returned she would loan it to him to read each night. In the mornings he would find her, and return the book to her for safe-keeping during the day. Eileen still hated it, but she had no say. Dolores thought Tom was wonderful, so that's all there was to it, and Dolores' was set on her plan; she would not be moved.

After breakfast Dolores nudged Eileen. They were in the hallway, the Great Hall was emptying out for the day, and Tom was speaking with the Jewish boy. The two of them seemed to be speaking. The red-haired girl was at his side, and she seemed not to want to be parted from him, but after a moment, Tom succeeded. He and the boy took a walk by themselves, and Dolores and Eileen followed behind—far enough away not to be noticed—but close enough still to see what was going on.

"I'm not sure someone like me should be alone with a Slytherin Pureblood—I don't know what your intentions are-" The boy began, nervously touching the symbol at his neck.

"Come now, you're generalizing, aren't you? Not all of us Slytherin's think poorly of Muggleborns. Take Abraxas Malfoy, for example. Malfoy is a fine example of the way a Slytherin should really behave—proud of his line, while not judging others for their blood or their heritage. He's even staying behind for the Christmas holiday with you and the others." Tom smiled, and continued. "He even opened Malfoy Manor up to any Muggleborns who couldn't or did not wish to return home during the summer, when the raids were going on. But you know, don't you? You were there...you remained safe."

Now the four were down a deserted corridor. Eileen was increasingly uncomfortable, especially listening to the falsities Tom wove, when she knew the truth of his opinions were the complete opposite.

"I should've been with my family." The dark-haired boy said, his voice cracking with emotion. Tom shoved him up against the stone wall, sneering.

"Yes, yes you should have. They're all dead, aren't they? They're either dead or they're dying, taken to those camps, stuffed into ovens, the stench of no-good Muggle flesh burning..."

The boy made a small choked sound of protest, but he seemed unable to move. Tom was pressed physically against him, one hand wrapped around the taller boys neck, the point of Tom's wand nipping into his jawline. Their eyes were locked; the boys were wide in fright, and Eileen remembered her first meeting with Tom on the train to Hogwarts. He had gotten into her mind that day, his eerie voice singing in a tuneless murmur, that snippet of song:

The dead are lying in the field,  
>Oh, hear Her Kraaak and cry!<br>The gaping wounds, a raven's yield,  
>She comes hungry from the sky.<p>

What was Tom doing to that boy? Eileen began to spring from the corner she and Dolores had ducked into, but Dolores' hand wrapped around her wrist, and tugged her back.

"Wait." Dolores hissed.

"You should have died with them." Tom growled, and then he laughed—a sound that seemed fit to haunt the halls of St. Mungos most horrible wing. Tom gripped the Star of David, and with a disgusted curl of his lip, he broke the chain and curled the necklace up in his hand. "You won't remember any of this though, will you?" Tom added. He stuck the necklace into the inside of his robe, and let the boy go.

"We'd better get back to your girlfriend before she send out a search team." Tom said, his smile and warm eyed gaze back in place. The boy was dazed and blinking. "Thank you for chatting with me. I do hope you have a good holiday."

Tom took the boy back to his waiting girlfriend, who looked at him concerned. Eileen and Dolores followed but stayed far enough away as to not draw attention. Dolores looked smug, while Eileen looked pale as the snow which blanketed the campus outside.

"Are you alright, love?" The red-haired Ravenclaw asked, brushing a dark lock of hair back from her boyfriends head.

"Just...I've got a bit of a headache." He said, pressing his hand to his forehead. "I think I need to lie down."

The two wandered away, and when they were out of sight, Tom approached the two girls. He dangled the necklace and then dropped it into Dolores' hand, grimacing as if it were complete filth.

"Thank you, Tom. Come on, Eileen—we'll lose them. No doubt she's taking her Mud-Jew to Gryffindor so he can go to bed." Dolores said, hurrying down a hallway. The couple were seeming to head that way.

"Dolores, I don't think we should-"

"Shhh—you just wait, Eileen."

"Where's your necklace?" They heard the ginger murmur, touching her boyfriends chest, where the pendant would normally lay.

"I don't know..." The poor boy looked entirely confused. "I must've lost it." He said, touching the empty space too.

Dolores and Eileen waited as the couple said their goodbyes before the boy disappeared into the Fat Lady. Dolores applied a charm to the necklace that she had been practicing, and then cast a cushioning charm onto the stone floor, so the necklace would not make a sound when she tossed it out into the hallway. Eileen wanted to go back to her dorm. Eileen was all for revenge, she felt it was only justice for those to get what they had coming to them, but this just felt wrong. Whatever Dolores was doing, this was just a bit too much. Eileen couldn't move now, however, She was too far in the plot, so she stayed with Dolores, the two of them huddled in the shadows, unseen.

The Ravenclaw girl began to walk back, and she gasped when she saw her boyfriends lost necklace glittering up at her.

"Oh, Samuel will be so glad you came back to us." She said, and bent down to pick up the pendant on its broken chain. Dolores gave a swish of her wand, and the girl cried out when the star flew up, and slashed her again and again in the face. She screamed, and flailed, swiping at the attacking star, and finally it was finished and the pendant fell back to the floor, its points dripping with blood.

"Oh dear, what's wrong?" Dolores hurried over to the kneeling girl, who was too distraught to make any sort of connection. Eileen moved out of the shadows too, on legs that felt wooden. Eileen approached slowly, and a few other students who had heard screaming had come too. Charlus had flown down the stairs, holding his hat to his head to keep it from falling. He knelt next to the crying girl.

"Hazel, what is it, dear?"

The girl called Hazel pointed to the bloody star with a trembling, freckled finger. Her red hair hung in curls, shielding her face. Charlus swept her hair back, and tilted her face up. Charlus nearly fell over, and many of the students who had gathered, gasped. Some of them had recognized the pattern.

Dolores faded back into the crowd, and touched Eileen's hand. The two sank towards the back of the group, Eileen feeling numb. She whispered against Dolores' ear, her voice barely audible.

"What does it mean?"

Dolores whispered back.

"It means her boyfriend won't ever want to look at her again."

"It cut me..." Hazel cried, pressing her hand over her bleeding cheek. The girl could not see what the others saw on her face—the symbol which was cut into her flesh and dripping blood—a Nazi Swastika.


End file.
